Anxiety.

She thought to herself, over and over.

What is this anxiety? I remember, but yet… I don't.

Anxiety. Sadness. Guilt. Love.

A gap. A dream. This must be what this is – a dream, an attempt to sort through the gaps in one's unconscious recollection.

In an effort to realize the nature of her dream, Homura went to the rooftop, and without a second thought, leapt off… and was suddenly overcame with the feeling that this was not the first time she did this.

She fell the short distance from the roof to the floor below - and stopped just short of the ground. She did not hit the floor. She did not expire. So this has got to be a dream.

Not yet.

A voice. Yet another dweller in the dream. This one, however, was human - or at least, had the semblance of a human.

Her skin was eerily pale. Her dark hair was of great length, nearly reaching her ankles, and was done in two long braided tails. On the topic of her skin again, most of it was visible; for whatever reason, the girl was nearly completely naked. She wore a white skirt that went down to her knees, and a loose black robe covered most of her upper half. Her eyes were closed always. When she spoke, it was as if sound followed the movement of her lips after a delay.

You are not yet ready. You must know.

Know what?

You must know why things are the way they are.

Why? Why must I know? From what I can tell so far, knowing will only bring me more feelings. Sadness. Love. Self-loathing. I don't want to feel these things.

Even love?

…

…come. Find the reason for all that is. Find the purpose that gives you existence, whether that be from yourself or from others.

I don't understand.

But you will. Come; everything must be illuminated.

Homura found herself upright once again, her feet barely touching the ground.

Why should I follow you?

Because I am you.

What?

I am she and she is we and you are she. We are all together.

Are you toying with me? Why?

I am not toying with you. Come, and you will understand. Everything will be illuminated.

Illuminated?

Yes, illuminated.

The girl turned and began to walk… no, it was more like float, away. Her feet touched the ground, but the movement of her body implied gliding more than movement of legs. Homura, compelled by a force unknown - was it the girl, or did her own will make her follow? Regardless, she followed.

The girl walked, and floated, and glided, and Homura followed suit. When they came to the river, the girl just took steps on air across; to Homura's surprise, she did as well, and as she looked below into her faint reflection on the water's surface, she saw more than Homura. She saw someone else. But she could not tell who it was.

The girl came before the school. Her school. Homura's school.

The illumination shall begin here. Come.

And Homura, by her own will or the will of another, came.

They entered the school, and as they walked the hallways, Homura began to think. She began to remember. She did not remember solid memories: she remembered shapes, forms, feelings, emotions, but not faces, names, or personalities. Most of the emotions and feelings were negative: she felt like a fool. She felt no worth of being there, and grew weary of being there. She could sense a thousand unseen eyes pierce into her soul, stripping away her field of emotional security, and violating her soul with their judgments.

But yet, whether through a guiding hand or her own psyche, she went on. And on she went, further and further still into the school. Was the school always this large?

After what seemed like an eternity, a thousand years of wandering those hallways, Homura came before a classroom. She knew it on sight. It was her own.

Now, we go in, and we shall begin our illumination. We shall pursue who you are here. We shall determine, or begin to determine, who exactly am I, and you, and she. We shall discover here this person known to the world as Akemi Homura.

Akemi?

Yes, that is your surname. Wonderful, isn't it? You sound like someone that belongs in a story of the supernatural, like you belong in a dark story of trial and suffering… and you very well may be. Now sit.

Homura came before a seat. Her seat. She sat down in it, and at once, the memories came back. Colors. Shapes. Emotions.

Akemi Homura, sitting in her seat in her class, began to cry, then. She cried for the remembrance of who she was. She cried for the remembrance of what she became. And she cried for the remembrance of what she was to become.